As soon as she woke in the dark morning she put her hand under her pillow to feel the precious volume, which she hoped would be the bond to bind her yet more closely to the boat and its builders. She took it to school in her pocket, learning the whole way as she went, and taking a roundabout road that her cousins might not interrupt her. She kept repeating and peeping every possible moment during school hours, and then all the way home again. So that by the time she had had her dinner, and the gauzy twilight had thickened to the "blanket of the dark," she felt quite ready to carry her offering of "the song that lightens toil," to George Macwha's workshop. How clever they must be, she thought, as she went along, to make such a beautiful thing as the boat was now growing to! And she felt in her heart a kind of love for the look of living grace that the little craft already wore. Indeed before it was finished she had learned to regard it with a feeling of mingled awe, affection, and admiration, and the little boat had made for itself a place in her brain. When she entered, she found the two boys already in busy talk; and without interrupting them by a word, she took her place on the heap of shavings which had remained undisturbed since last night. After the immediate consultation was over, and the young carpenters had settled to their work--not knowing what introduction to give to her offering, she produced it without any at all. The boys did not know what to make of it at first, hearing something come all at once from Annie's lips which was neither question nor remark, and broke upon the silence like an alien sound. But they said nothing--only gave a glance at each other and at her, and settled down to listen and to work. Nor did they speak one word until she had finished the ballad. "THE LAST WOOING," said Annie, all at once, and went on: "O lat me in, my bonny lass! It's a lang road ower the hill; And the flauchterin' snaw began to fa', As I cam by the mill." "This is nae change-hoose, John Munro, And ye needna come nae mair: Ye crookit yer mou', and lichtlied me, Last Wednesday, at the fair." "I lichtlied ye!" "Aboon the glass." "Foul-fa' the ill-faured mouth That made the leein' word to pass, By rowin' 't (wrapping) in the truth. The fac' was this: I dochtna bide To hear yer bonnie name, Whaur muckle mous war opened wide Wi' lawless mirth and shame. And a' I said was: 'Hoot! lat sit; She's but a bairn, the lass.' It turned the spait (flood) o' words a bit, And loot yer fair name pass." "Thank ye for naething, John Munro! My name can gang or bide; It's no a sough o' drucken words Wad turn my heid aside." "O Elsie, lassie o' my ain! The drift is cauld and strang; O tak me in ae hour, and syne I'll gather me and gang." "Ye're guid at fleechin' (wheedling), Jock Munro. For ye heedna fause and true: Gang in to Katie at the Mill, She lo'es sic like as you."